last night

i corrected my head on the pillow. book in my hand, handphone charging beside me. it's been a long time since i last feel completely drowned in a novel. i hate relating to characters, it feels almost as if the author is mocking my life. the handphone beeped twice. i flipped it open. smiled. typed a short goodnight text. don't send out misleading signals, Atiqah. i put my thumb on the C button on the keypad. paused for a second. ego tak habis, kecik sampai besar. pressed the C button and watched the words dissapear. maybe i shouldn't reply. i put my focus back on the book. like a few seconds later, i saw the door open a crack. that must be mama, silently checking on me before she goes to bed. she does that every night, thinking i don't notice her peeking through the door. i can never get my parents. it's easy to believe that they do these things because they love me, but sometimes it feels like distrust. or maybe that is just the ultra-insecure me speaking. i'll never know.

i tried to focus back on the book, but it seemed almost impossible. perhaps i was sleepy. i stared out the ventilation window above the bedroom door. why are the lights still on, mama x tidur lagi ke. then i heard the clicks between the iron and the metal of the ironing board. ohh..gosok baju sekolah Didie and KuZett. i stared at my book. none of the sentences seemed to make any sense anymore. all that my brain registered was the clicking sound of the iron every time mama rests it on the side of the ironing board. i flipped open my handphone and looked at the time. 1.45am. i ignored the guilt i was beginning to feel and stared at the book again.

click.

click.

click.

"Ma, mehla atiq ironkan. Mama gi la tidur. Goodnight ma."

*sengih* "Thank you sayang,"